Rowan's POV
"This is the second time you've knelt before me, Rowan," the thief said mockingly. His lips curved into a slow, deliberate smirk as he slipped the heart-shaped charm into his pocket. "It's a beautiful sight—seeing us like this. Our positions perfectly clear."
Heat rushed to my face. I opened my mouth, anger and humiliation tangling on my tongue, ready to throw back whatever dignity I could salvage—
Then his body went slack.
He collapsed without warning.
I barely caught him in time. His full weight crashed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs as we stumbled together. For a heartbeat, I thought he was pretending. That this was another trick.
"What just—"
When my hand slid to the back of his head, it came away slick.
Blood.
My breath hitched. Crimson seeped through his light brown hair, warm and horrifying against my fingers.
Panic surged through me.
"What just happened?" I whispered, my mind scrambling.
"Good thing you stalled him for me, Rowan," a familiar voice said calmly.
I looked up.
General Voltaire emerged from the shadows as if he had always been there, his presence commanding, unshaken. "It was easy to knock him out," he continued evenly. "He wasn't moving. I just threw a rock at his head."
I stared at him.
"Y-you did this," I said, disbelief tightening my voice, "by throwing a rock?"
"Yes," he replied, brows furrowing slightly, genuinely puzzled. "Why?"
As if incapacitating a notorious thief with a single throw was the most ordinary thing in the world, well… maybe for the general of course.
His gaze then shifted past me, sharp and assessing. "And these men," he added, nodding toward the figures behind me—men who had been sharpening their blades earlier in a normal phase. "Are they giving you trouble? Are they allies of this thief?"
I glanced back.
The men froze the moment they realized they were being observed. Their knives scraped faster against the whetstones, movements tense, uneven. They looked dangerous—yet suddenly uncertain.
"No," I said slowly. "Actually... they didn't do anything to me."
"Good," General Voltaire said flatly.
He turned his attention back to the unconscious thief. "Do any of you have a chain? Something strong enough to restrain him."
One man rushed to a nearby storage chest used for livestock restraints and pulled out a thick iron chain. His hands shook as he offered it.
Honestly, who wouldn't be terrified of the general after what he did to the thief? He showed no sign of turmoil, no flicker of emotion—only a calm so steady it was far more frightening than anger.
"Thank you," the general said, his tone curt but final.
He knelt and began binding the thief's arms with practiced efficiency. "A chain is better than rope," he added. "Who knows what he's capable of once he wakes up. I'd rather not take chances."
"Where are we taking him?" I asked. "To one of the prison chambers near the manor where my father works?"
"No," General Voltaire replied without hesitation. "Not yet. I'm isolating him first—with us. I need information. If we place him under formal guard, he won't speak."
There was no doubt in his voice.
He finished securing the thief's wrists, then bound his ankles as well, ensuring escape would be impossible. After that, he lifted the man effortlessly into his arms, as though carrying an unconscious criminal was no heavier than a sack of grain.
"Wait," I said quickly. "The blood—his head is still bleeding. What if something happens to him?"
The general paused and looked at me, his expression unreadable.
"Are you worried about him?" he asked, brows knitting.
"No!" I said immediately, shaking my head. "I mean—if he dies from blood loss, then our only lead to the rebels dies with him."
For a moment, he studied me. Then he nodded.
"That's true," he said. He turned back to the men. "Do you have anything to stop the bleeding?"
One of them hurried back to the chest and returned with a long strip of cloth, handing it over with trembling hands.
"Thank you," General Voltaire said, his voice low and intimidating. The man practically fled back to his place, resuming his blade-sharpening with nervous intensity.
The general then looked at me. "Rowan, apply pressure. Wrap his head and stop the bleeding."
I nodded and obeyed.
As I pressed the cloth carefully against the wound, tying it firmly to hold, General Voltaire addressed the men again.
"Are you part of the rebels?" he asked.
They shook their heads violently, like frightened children caught in wrongdoing.
"We—we're meat butchers," one of them said hastily. "From a slaughterhouse nearby."
"I see," the general said. "Which path will take us back to the city market fastest?"
All of them pointed in the same direction.
"Thank you," he said with a single nod. Then he turned to me. "Are you done, Rowan?"
"Yes," I said, securing the final knot. The bleeding had slowed—for now.
"Then let's go," General Voltaire said. "We'll regroup with Aurein and Serena. We have him."
He started walking in the direction the butchers had indicated, the unconscious thief still restrained and carried with ease.
I followed closely behind.
For the first time since the encounter began, I allowed myself to breathe.
We had him.
And whatever secrets he carried, we were about to uncover them.
* * *
We returned to the farmland with the thief in tow—still unconscious, mercifully silent, his body swaying slightly as General Voltaire carried him as if he weighed nothing at all.
"Where should we keep him for now?" General Voltaire asked, scanning the area with a strategist's calm.
"Tie him to a tree trunk," I said at once. "One with large ants. Lots of them. Let him suffer."
Aurein gasped. "Wait—Rowan, isn't that too harsh?"
"Aurein, honestly," Serena snapped, arms crossing. "You're feeling sorry for him? Remember what you said—he sniffed my undergarments!" She pointed sharply toward the trees. "Go. Tie him there. And after that, I'm slapping him."
"For intimidation only," General Voltaire said coolly. "If it goes too far, we move him."
He carried the thief toward a large tree not far from our hut, its trunk thick and rough, the ground around it crawling with tiny red movement. While the man remained unconscious, the general bound him securely to the trunk with chains, tight enough that escape was clearly impossible.
As we stepped back, Aurein frowned. "Is it just me, or am I suddenly feeling sorry for him?"
"Aurein," Serena said flatly. "It's just you."
Then she tilted her head, studying the thief's face.
"Though... I have to admit, he is quite handsome."
Her eyes flicked toward me.
"But he's still a thief," I said quickly. "Don't get swayed."
"How long are we keeping him tied there?" Aurein asked.
"As long as it takes," General Voltaire replied. "Until he reveals what he knows."
"And if he doesn't?" Serena asked.
"He will," the general said. "He must."
Aurein hesitated. "What if it rains since it looks like it will anytime soon? Or if beasts roam at night? What if something attacks him?"
"Then I'll guard him," General Voltaire said without hesitation.
Before anyone could respond, a low groan broke the air.
"Argh... my head hurts..." the thief muttered as consciousness returned.
We all turned at once.
His eyes fluttered open—and widened in shock as he took in his surroundings, the chains, the tree, and the people standing before him.
Then, Serena raised her right hand with full intent.
"Serena—!" General Voltaire barked.
Too late.
Slap!
The sound cracked through the air.
Serena had struck him the instant he woke.
"That's for sniffing my undergarments, you wretched thief!" she said furiously.
"Serena," Aurein whispered, horrified. "That's cruel..."
"Aurein, do you want me to slap you too?" Serena shot back. "Why are you pitying a thief? Your heart is far too soft."
"Untie me!" the thief growled, struggling violently. The chains rattled, but he barely moved an inch. "Or better yet, just kill me!"
"I'll release you," General Voltaire said evenly, "once you tell me what I need to know."
The thief smirked.
"And you still have the nerve to smile?" Serena snapped. "Do you want me to knock those fangs right out of your mouth?"
"Tell us what you know about the rebels," I said. "Their hideout—and whatever you took from them."
"What a bold request," he said lightly. Then, with a shrug, "Fine. I'll tell you."
Aurein, Serena, and I stiffened.
"Wait—just like that?" Serena said. "You'll talk already? No torture? Nothing on our part? No need for intense interrogation?"
"Not on your part," the thief said, turning his gaze toward me. His grin widened, slow and smug. "On 'his'."
He looked straight at me.
"I want you, Rowan, to kneel like a dog in front of me," he said. "And bark."
"No," I said immediately. "I won't."
"Rowan!" Serena hissed. "Just do it! If that's what it takes to get the information! It is a simple request!"
"I won't kneel for someone's amusement," I said. "And even if I did, there's no guarantee he'd tell the truth."
The thief laughed.
The sound was infuriatingly calm.
"What's so funny?" I asked, brows furrowing.
"I thought you might actually do it," he said. "I was ready to talk. But since you won't kneel..."
"Rowan!" Serena snapped. "Hurry up! Just kneel and bark already!"
I stared at him with open disdain.
"Well?" he said lazily, as if the chains meant nothing. As if he still held control. "Will you do it or not?"
And the infuriating part was—he wasn't entirely wrong. He had the information we needed. All it would cost was my pride.
"No," I said firmly. "I will not kneel before a lowly thief. I have dignity to uphold. I am a noble."
"As expected," he said mockingly. "You rely far too much on your status."
He chuckled.
"Such a shame. You already had your chance. I might even change my mind later—who knows? This was the easiest request I could make in exchange for what I know. The rebels' plans. Their hideout. Their most confidential secret—something that could shatter all of Ardentia."
He laughed again, wild and reckless.
"Rowan, hurry up!" Serena cried. "If this drags on, it'll only get worse! Forget your noble pride for once and just surrender so this can end!"
"The beautiful princess is right," the thief said smoothly. "Just be inferior for now and you'll get what you need from me."
He smiled at me, sharp and taunting.
"Never," I said.
And I meant it.
I turned my head and looked straight at General Voltaire.
"There has to be another way to make him speak," I said, my voice steady despite the fire coiling in my chest. "I am not kneeling in front of him. I am not becoming his dog."
"If it saves lives..." Aurein said quietly.
We all turned to him.
"I will kneel instead," he continued, his voice gentle, almost pleading. "If that's what he wants, then let it be me. Just tell us the truth. Please."
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
General Voltaire's eyes widened in pure shock. "No," he said sharply. "You will not kneel in front of him, Aurein."
The thief chuckled, clearly entertained. "Well, I didn't expect the prince of Ardentia to be this softhearted," he said with mock admiration. "But where's the thrill in that? I prefer it when someone resists." His gaze slid to me. "Someone like Rowan—who thinks so highly of himself."
Something in me snapped.
"Should I just kill you myself?" I said flatly. "Because at this point, I honestly don't care anymore whether you have the information we need or not."
"Rowan, are you insane?" Aurein exclaimed. "Have you forgotten? He might be your true lover. Look—because of the heart charm, you were brought together. That means this wasn't an accident. It was fate."
The thief blinked, then burst into laughter—loud, sharp, almost hysterical.
"True lover? Heart charm?" he repeated between laughs. "You actually believe in that? Only fools cling to nonsense like that."
I stepped forward, my voice ice-cold. "And I would never—ever—find myself loving someone like you. Even if you were the last person left in this world. I would rather kill myself."
He smirked again.
I hated that smirk.
"Um... you, the thief," Aurein said carefully, his tone painfully polite, "could you please tell us what you know about the rebels?"
He stared at Aurein as if he were witnessing something rare.
"If only our Rowan were half as kind and endearing as you, Aurein." the thief said softly.
"That's Prince Aurein for you," I shouted as I lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Learn to respect the people standing in front of you. They are the future rulers of this kingdom!"
He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he laughed—low and amused.
"Don't be so sure," he said as his eyes glinted. "Will he be?"
My hand trembled.
"Tell us what you know," I demanded. "Now."
He sighed, relaxed, as if he were lounging in a tavern instead of restrained. "It's really fun, playing with all of you."
"What do you want?" Aurein asked urgently. "Gold? I'll give you gold. As much as you want. Please—just give us the information. We don't have to do this the hard way. We can negotiate."
"You really are a kind prince," the thief said, smiling faintly. "But I don't need gold, Aurein." He leaned forward slightly. "I want you to give me the entire kingdom."
"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped, tightening my grip on his hair.
He smiled at me, slow and mocking.
"Again, while I have't changed my mind for our condition, just kneel in front of me," he said. "Like a dog. Bark for me. And I'll tell you everything, Rowan."
"This is already nonsense," I said, stepping back.
His smirk never faded.
"We're leaving," I said coldly. "I hope the ants tear you apart slowly."
"It's fine," he replied with a shrug, as if death itself meant nothing to him.
"You're insane," I muttered. "Let's go. We'll think of another way."
We had barely taken a few steps when his voice rang out behind us.
"There's no other way, Rowan," he called cheerfully. "Kneel and be my dog. Arf. Arf."
I ignored him and kept walking.
* * *
Later, inside the small hut where General Voltaire, Aurein, and Serena stay, we sat in tense silence, trying to figure out how to make the thief speak.
"The easiest way," Serena said dryly, "is for Rowan to kneel and bark like a dog. Which, obviously, will never happen."
"Not in this lifetime," I said, irritated, "or the next."
"Then the hard way," Serena continued. "Violence. Maybe you can whip his back until he breaks, General Voltaire."
"That," I said, nodding, "sounds like an actual plan."
"I don't think he'll speak," General Voltaire said slowly. "Not even through pain. He's... shallow. I suspect he'd only tell the truth if Rowan does exactly what he wants."
"If you ordered me to kneel in front of you, General Voltaire, I would," I said. "But not for him. Never. There has to be another way. Please—think of something else."
"I'm afraid," Voltaire said quietly, "that even the harshest interrogation won't work. And if he refuses to speak..." He paused. "Killing him may be our only option and look for his hideout."
"If that's the only way," I said, my voice harsher than I intended.
"No!" Aurein protested. "That's inhumane. Everyone has a soft spot. There has to be another way—without killing him, and without Rowan humiliating himself."
"I don't believe he has a soft spot," I muttered. "He's a lunatic."
"La! La! La!"
We all froze.
"La! La! Laaa!"
The thief's voice echoed loudly from outside, mocking us.
"See?" I said grimly. "He's playing with us. Was capturing him even the right choice? Should we move him to the prison chamber instead?"
"La! La! LAAAAAA!"
"Make it stop," Serena groaned. "I swear, I won't be able to sleep tonight if I keep hearing his voice."
"I'll shut him up," I said, standing. "Or I'll knock him unconscious again. It was a mistake letting him stay anywhere near us."
"Wait, Rowan," Aurein said suddenly. "You collided with him by accident, right?"
"Yes," I replied. "Why?"
"You weren't chasing him then?"
"Sort of. At that moment, before I found him, I was actually running away—from a group of men I thought were dangerous but turns out to be butchers." I frowned. "Funny, isn't it? When I chased him, I could never catch him. But when I didn't..." I paused. "That was when we collided."
Aurein smiled then—soft, relieved, as if a weight had lifted from his chest.
"Why?" I asked, watching him closely.
"What if," he said carefully, "the charm you keep telling us about has already worked? What if it truly led the two of you to each other?"
"I refuse to believe that," I replied at once. "Even if he was the first person to touch my charm, I will never accept him as my lover. For now, I choose to believe General Voltaire—that we should not rely on charms."
General Voltaire closed his eyes briefly and nodded, looking far too pleased with himself.
"But don't you see?" Aurein pressed. "Without the charm's effect, how could we be sure we would ever encounter the thief again? And yet you collided with him—of all possibilities. That must mean something. It means he really is your true lover."
"I thought you hated that thief and opposed him entirely to be Rowan's lover," Serena said skeptically.
"I do," Aurein answered, his tone suddenly serious. "But what if Rowan is the only one who can change his heart?"
Silence fell between us.
"La la la laaaaa!"
The thief's voice burst out again from outside, loud and taunting.
"No," I snapped. "Absolutely not. There is no chance his heart will ever change—and I do not have the patience to try. I can be kind, Aurein, but only to those who know their place. Not to someone like him, who thinks too highly of himself despite being nothing more than a lowly thief. He doesn't even respect you."
"Then perhaps," Aurein said calmly, "the only way to get information from him is for you to soften your heart first. And once you do, soften his next. If he begins to trust you, he will speak. That is what we might need."
"Aurein," Serena said flatly, "you're usually smart. But this is the most foolish plan you've ever suggested."
"You don't have to take the risk," Aurein replied. "I'm only sharing my thoughts. If we soften his heart, he might not only tell us what he knows—he could even become an ally. Someone useful, especially if we ever need something stolen from the rebels or from any enemies we might encounter."
General Voltaire studied him with interest, silent for a long moment.
"Risky," he finally said. "But not impossible."
"Of course you'd support Aurein's idea," Serena scoffed. "He's your lover. But Rowan and I are in agreement."
"She's right," I said. "Nothing will happen between him and me. Not now. Not ever. Not even the slightest care."
"La la laaaaa!"
"That's it," I growled. "I'm covering his mouth for good."
I stormed outside.
* * *
"Miss me already?" the thief teased, grinning smugly as soon as he saw me.
I didn't respond.
I stepped closer and grabbed the cloth I had tied around his head earlier to stop the bleeding. It was soaked through with blood.
"That stone really hurt," he said lightly. "It could've killed me."
"Stop talking," I said.
I wrapped the cloth around his mouth—firm enough to silence him, loose enough that he could still breathe.
He couldn't speak anymore, but his eyes did enough talking for him.
Mocking. Teasing. Irritating.
Loving him? That was the most impossible thought of all.
I turned away and glanced at the sky. It had darkened significantly. Rain was coming.
I started to leave—then looked back at him, bound and helpless, his eyes still mocking me.
I said nothing more and returned to the hut. I refused to waste my energy being annoyed by him.
The moment I stepped inside, Serena let out a relieved sigh.
"Finally. No more noise," she said. "So what's the plan now?"
Before anyone could answer, something struck the roof.
"Is it raining already?" Aurein asked. "Wait—the thief. He'll get soaked."
"Let him," I said coldly. "He deserves it."
"That's cruel," Aurein murmured.
"You feel sorry for someone like him?" Serena snapped. "Don't forget—he stole from that magician who needed the money for his pregnant wife. Did he feel sorry for them? He didn't care at all. So why should you?" She sighed irritably. "He doesn't deserve your kindness."
Aurein simply nodded and fell silent.
* * *
The rain grew heavier with time, so strong that water began seeping into the hut. The wind howled outside, forcing us to shut the windows.
"I know you told me not to care," Aurein said carefully, "but the rain is getting worse. The thief is still outside. What if he weakens? What if he dies? Then we won't get any information from him."
"Let him," I said, standing by the window, staring at the rain as it pounded mercilessly against the ground.
Aurein stepped beside me.
"Rowan," he said softly, "I know you. You have kindness in your heart. He may be a bad person—but he's still your true lover."
"He's not," I replied sharply, frowning at him.
Aurein looked genuinely troubled.
"I just keep wondering," he said, "what happened to him. Why he became a thief. Something must have happened in his past. He must have had a good heart once. Maybe he was kind before, but the world treated him cruelly—and this is what he became."
I exhaled slowly and looked back at the rain.
"Or maybe," I said, "he was simply born evil."
"People aren't born evil," Aurein said gently. "Sometimes, it's what we experience that changes us."
"I don't care what kind of life he had," I replied. "It doesn't justify stealing from others and ruining their lives just because his own was ruined. That isn't fair to the people he hurt. If we hadn't discovered what he did to the magician, do you think his pregnant wife would have survived? No."
"But there's still a way to change him," Aurein insisted. "He's done terrible things—but those can still be corrected. It's not too late for him." He sighed. "Believe it or not, maybe the charm truly worked. Maybe it brought the two of you together for a reason—to change him. And if you succeed, wouldn't that be good? He wouldn't steal anymore."
"And what about me? What good does it bring me?" I asked.
"Maybe, once you gain his trust, he won't leave your side for sure. He will protect you with all his love. Just like how the General protects me." Aurein said as he smiled at me, gentle and hopeful.
I looked at him, still deep in thoughts.
"I'm not forcing you," Aurein said. "I'm just asking you to give people a chance. We're human. We make mistakes. That doesn't mean we don't deserve love. Maybe that's what he needs most right now."
Then he left quietly.
I remained by the window, staring at the rain, his words echoing in my mind.
Should I give him a chance? I wondered. Does he deserve to be loved?
I glanced back inside.
Aurein sat in the corner beside General Voltaire, his head resting peacefully on the general's lap.
In that moment, I wished the love I was searching for looked like theirs.
Not like this.
And if the thief truly was the one I was meant to love—why did it have to be this way?
I sighed deeply, the sound nearly lost beneath the storm.
I couldn't take it anymore.
I ran outside, straight into the rain, my boots slipping against the mud as I headed toward where we had tied the thief.
And then I saw him.
He was unconscious.
My breath caught as I froze in place.
Blood dripped steadily onto the ground beneath him, dark and relentless, and I swallowed hard. His head had slumped forward, rain pounding mercilessly against the back of his skull—the exact spot where General Voltaire's stone had struck him. The wound had split open further, the water washing the blood down his neck, making the bleeding worse.
His skin was pale—too pale. Whether from the cold wind, the freezing rain, or the blood loss, I couldn't tell. Maybe all three.
Panic surged through me.
Without thinking, I rushed forward and began undoing the chains. My hands shook violently as I fumbled with the metal, my fingers numb and clumsy, but I forced myself to keep going. When the last restraint came loose, his body collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.
I had no choice.
I lifted him into my arms and carried him back to the hut, rain soaking us both.
When I entered, everyone stared at me in shock.
"Why did you bring that thief in here?" Serena snapped angrily.
"I—I don't know," I said, the words coming out useless and hollow, because I truly didn't.
"Quick! Lay him down!" Aurein said urgently.
I lowered the thief onto the wooden floor, pressing my hand against the back of his head to slow the bleeding. Blood seeped between my fingers. His lips were losing color, and when I brushed his skin, it was cold—far too cold.
"He might die," I said quietly, dread tightening my chest.
Aurein immediately grabbed a basin, clean cloth, and medicinal herbs.
"Seriously, Aurein?" Serena said sharply. "You're going to help him?"
"Thief or not," Aurein replied firmly, "he is still a citizen of this kingdom. We must treat him as one."
"And if he isn't from this kingdom?" Serena shot back.
"Then at least we prove that we know how one human should treat another," Aurein said.
He carefully turned the thief onto his side to tend to the wound.
"Aurein," Serena sighed in frustration. "If you become king someday, will you just forgive everyone who commits a crime? What's the point of punishment if you're always this gentle?"
"I simply don't want someone to die in front of me," Aurein said as he worked, his hands steady despite the blood.
I glanced at General Voltaire, who stood silently, watching Aurein.
"Why don't you stop him?" Serena demanded. "He listens to you. Tell him to let the thief suffer the consequences."
General Voltaire exhaled slowly.
"If he dies," he said quietly, "we gain nothing. Let Aurein help the thief."
"Tch. This is hopeless," Serena muttered. "At least tie him up again after treating him. If he wakes up, he won't be able to fight."
* * *
After Aurein finished tending to his wound, we carefully laid the thief down on a woven mat. His wrists and ankles were secured, a necessary precaution in case he regained consciousness. The rain continued to pour relentlessly outside, drumming against the hut's roof, and so we decided to keep him here—for now, sheltered from the storm and from whatever choices awaited him when he woke.
Serena clearly disagreed, but she had no choice.
Not long after, Aurein, General Voltaire, and Serena left for the other hut where Elder Henderson and Elric were staying.
That left only me.
Me and the unconscious thief.
His color slowly returned, faint warmth spreading back into his skin. I hesitated before touching his forehead—it was warmer now.
Then his lips moved.
I pulled my hand back at once.
His brows furrowed as he slowly opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked weakly.
"You choose," I said flatly. "Heaven or hell?"
He let out a soft chuckle.
"Hell," he said without hesitation. "I belong there." A faint smirk curved his lips, one sharp fang glinting despite his weakness. "Why bring me here? You could've let me die outside."
"I wanted you dead," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could soften them. "But we need something from you."
I looked away, jaw tightening.
"So even if I didn't want to, I carried you back here. Don't misunderstand."
My gaze returned to him, guarded and distant.
"I didn't save you out of mercy. Just to let you know."
"I already told you," he said. "The easiest way is for you to become my dog."
"Will you stop?" I snapped.
"I won't," he said calmly. "I love it when you resist. I love tearing apart that noble pride of yours—grinding it down until you realize you're no different from me. Just another human. Titles mean nothing."
"You're insane," I said coldly. "Tell me—where are you from? What's your name?"
"Kneel and bark first," he replied weakly.
My hand shot out and grabbed his neck.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to tighten my grip and end it right there.
But he wasn't afraid.
He smiled.
I could feel his pulse hammering beneath my fingers—fast, alive—but he didn't struggle. He didn't resist me at all.
And somehow, that unsettled me more than if he had.
"Yes," he said, his lips curling in a lazy, provoking smile. "Kill me now—so I can go straight to hell."
I released a sharp breath and yanked my hand away from him, as if his words had burned my skin.
"Why?" he asked calmly.
I stared at him, my jaw tightening. "Why are you stealing? What made you choose this life?" I demanded.
"Because it's fun," he answered without hesitation.
"Be serious for once."
"I am serious," he said. His voice remained light, almost pleased. "I love seeing their faces—the moment they realize something important is gone. That helpless look. The way hope drains out of them."
Disgust twisted in my chest as I looked at him.
"You really are evil," I said coldly. "There's no way you could ever change. Aurein was wrong to believe you could."
At the mention of the prince, his expression shifted—just slightly.
"The prince," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "He really is kind-hearted."
My stomach tightened.
"Too bad he's..." he added, then stopped.
"He's what?" I snapped. "Finish it. Tell me."
He laughed instead—soft, amused, as if my concern delighted him.
He closed his eyes and let out a slow, deep sigh.
"Just kill me," he said. "I'll keep the secret to myself. I'll take it with me to hell."
"If you tell me the truth," I said through clenched teeth, "I'll consider it—the thing you want me to do."
His eyes opened, sharp and mocking.
"I changed my mind," he said. "You take too long to decide."
"You—!" I growled, running a hand through my hair, forcing myself to breathe. "Tell me honestly. Even if I did what you wanted, you wouldn't give us the truth about the rebels, would you?"
He laughed again, louder this time.
"No, I would have told you," he said easily. "But you hesitated. Now I don't feel like it."
"You're just playing with me," I said, irritation seeping into every word.
Then a scent drifted through the air—warm, rich, unmistakably aromatic. My focus faltered for a split second.
He inhaled deeply.
"That smells good," he said, suddenly bright. "What's for dinner?"
"You're not eating," I replied sharply.
He chuckled. "You won't let me. But the kind prince will. He wouldn't hesitate to feed me."
"And now you're using his kindness for your own gain?" I asked.
"Yes," he said plainly. "But if you want, you can feed me instead. How am I supposed to eat with my hands tied?"
"I'm not your servant," I snapped. "Starve. You deserve it."
The words felt satisfying—for exactly half a second.
I turned away, jaw tight, only to feel the weight of reality press in. His chains clinked softly behind me. Hunger didn't care about pride. Or hatred. Or punishment.
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face.
"If I let you starve, you'll die," I muttered, irritation and reluctance twisting together in my chest. "And as much as I'd like to pretend that's none of my problem—"
I clicked my tongue in frustration.
"Damn it," I growled. "Fine. I'll feed you. But don't get any wrong ideas."
Then he looked at me.
Not casually.
Not mockingly.
Straight into my eyes.
Unblinking.
"Stop staring at me," I hissed.
He didn't answer.
He didn't look away.
"What is your problem?" I demanded.
Then—
He lunged.
Chains exploded into sound as his bound hands jerked forward, his body surging on sheer instinct. I stumbled back, heart slamming violently against my ribs, as the restraints snapped him short—halting him just inches from me.
For a heartbeat, the space between us felt dangerously thin.
His breathing was heavier now.
Not wild.
Focused.
Something in his eyes sharpened—as if a switch had been flipped.
"Everyone else left me out there," he said quietly.
His gaze never left mine.
"But you didn't."
Rain hammered harder against the roof, filling the silence between us.
"So don't be surprised," he added, his voice low, edged with amusement, "if I don't leave you alone now."
End of Chapter 48